


Your Sins Into Me

by heavnofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavnofhell/pseuds/heavnofhell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Set in S7) Sam has had enough. He's tired of fighting, and can think of only one way out. But things have never gone according to plan for Sam Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Sins Into Me

He could  _feel_  the water, the pressure as it beat down upon his head and shoulders, but his body was beginning to feel _blissfully numb_ , and he could not discern whether the once comfortably warm water had held its temperature, or if it had yet gone _cold_. His hands were braced upon the hard wall, his abused palm leaving smears of crimson against the stark white ceramic, clear droplets snatching up the thicker liquid, and pulling it toward the floor in diluted, red rivulets. 

His heavy head was bowed down between his shoulders, his glossy hazel eyes blinking slowly, looking absently down at the empty pill bottle on the cold tile. He had been carrying the thing with him for  _weeks_ , tucked safely into his pocket, the nervous act of rolling it gently between his fingers, quickly becoming as  _commonplace_ as the pressing of his thumb _firmly_  into his wounded palm. 

But _now_  that bottle was empty, it’s hollowed out plastic shell lying discarded at his feet, reminding him that this warm exhaustion  _was not_  the simple result of a long and trying day. There was an envelope lying beneath the passenger seat in the Impala, addressed to D.W., and containing words that, _he knew_ , would  _never_ be enough. 

The hunter allowed his eyes to fall closed, his hands sliding down the slick wall as his strength began to fade away, slipping down into the drain in a slow and steady stream. He thought of his brother - of how he would call this the coward’s way out, and  _maybe_  he was right. But he was just _so tired_. Every single day was a fight with a monster he could not kill, and he was _done_  with trying to play the hero. 

“ **Sam.** ” That _voice_. That deep, quiet, beautiful and awful and  _infuriating_ voice. Sam groaned in annoyance, bowing his head lower and attempting to ignore the haunting image. 

“Come on, kiddo. Look at me.” The voice was closer now, and the hunter clenched his jaw tightly, tucking his chin against his chest. 

“Leave me alone.” 

“Sam -” 

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE!” His eyes snapped open, and he turned his head, glaring up at the persistent hallucination angrily. The lines of frustrating etched into his features became immediately less pronounced, his hardened eyes widening as he took in the vision before him.  

It was Lucifer - but he was _different_. He did not look like the same projection of Sam’s broken mind that had been plaguing the hunter for all these months. The cocky grin was gone, and, in its place, the archangel wore a weary expression of sympathy and sadness… the same look Lucifer had worn in that motel room on the night he had told Sam of his destiny.  _This_  motel room, in fact. 

For a moment, Sam simply stared, drinking in the cool and sorrowful eyes he hadn’t even realized he had been missing. But this  _had to be_  wrong. It was a trick of his mind - a last-ditch effort to ease his failing body into a peaceful rest, influenced, perhaps, by his impulsive choice to return to  _this specific room_  - the place he could not help but think of as _the beginning_  to all of this. Clinging to these small self-assurances, Sam attempted to harden his expression once more, giving a frustrated shake of his head. 

“I’m doing what  _you_  wanted. Why can’t you just -” His voice caught, and he felt a spike of despair rise up, cutting through the numbness that had blanketed his entire being. When he spoke again, his eyes fell closed, and his voice was scarcely a broken whisper. “Why can’t you just let me die in peace?” 

A heavy silence followed the desperate question, and,  _for a moment_ , Sam wondered if his plea had worked. The honeyed voice that glided easily over the sound of the running water, however, tossed his hopes to the wayside. 

“I’ve  _never_ wanted this for you.” A wry laugh escaped the hunter’s mouth, and he licked the water from his lips, shaking his head wordlessly. Of course, he was  _right_. This  _isn’t_  what Lucifer wanted - this was what  _Sam_  wanted. Every time he looked into the taunting eyes of this _ghost_ , he knew what it was he deserved. He was reminded of the  _pain_  he had caused - of the promises he had _broken_. This was what he  _wanted_ , because _this_  was what he had _earned_. 

“Sam,  _please_.” The cool touch against his cheek drew the shocked hazel eyes  _wide open_ , and he lifted his head, turning toward the touch, and gazing up at the sapphire eyes in complete bewilderment. His hallucination had never actually  _touched_  him - it was impossible. But _this_  - this gentle and cool caress - it carried an undeniable  _familiarity_ , bringing a peace to the hunter that could not be simple imagination. 

“ _Lucifer?_ ” The name rushed out of him in an incredulous whisper, unbidden tears pooling in his eyes, spilling down his already damp cheeks as his knees buckled and hit the wet tile beneath. His unfeeling fingers could not achieve a strong grip on the archangel, though he _did_  try, his hands reaching up as he grasped desperately at the body in front of him. Sam’s outstretched fingers were caught midair, two strong, cool hands gripping firmly and holding him steady. 

In an instant, the archangel was down on his knees before the hunter, the water falling down upon them, soaking the blond’s clothing in seconds. Lucifer didn’t even seem to notice, maintaining his grip on Sam’s hands, his piercing eyes staring straight into the man’s own. 

“I could hear your prayers.” Sam sucked in a sharp breath, his brows pinching together as he stared back at his other half. He  _had_  prayed. He had prayed so many nights - to  _God_ , to the other _angels_ , and, of course,  _to Lucifer_ , himself. He had prayed for forgiveness - for mercy; both, for himself, as well as for the archangel. A fresh wave of tears began to cascade down Sam’s face, and he shook his head from side to side, overwhelmed by the emotions. 

“ _You’re here_ …”

“I will  _always_  answer your prayers, Sam. I will  _always_  find you.” 

“But…” Sam looked up at Lucifer desperately, guilt heavy in his eyes and voice. “You’re in The Cage. I left you in -” His voice broke again, and he took a deep, shaky breath, before continuing in a hushed tone. “I _hear_  your screams…  _every night_. They wake me up, and I -” 

“ _Oh_ , Sam.” Lucifer shook his head gently, looking to the hunter with a weak, sad smile on his lips. “ _I_  might be caged, but  _you_  are not. You are  _free_ , Sam. You  _deserve_ to be free.” He paused, nodding slowly, fixing the human with a look of conviction. “You _deserve_ to live.” His tone left no room for contradiction, his somber eyes softening a touch, as he released Sam’s hand, reaching out and pushing back his thick, wet hair. 

Lucifer then moved his attention to the hand in his own, turning it over and tracing the ugly and irritated gash with his fingers. He tilted his head slightly, covering the wound with his own hand, and allowing his eyes to slide shut. Sam gasped lightly at the cold feeling of the archangel’s Grace, flowing over his skin, and through his veins.

A second later, Lucifer guided the hand gently up, brushing his lips across the knuckles, before placing a feather-light kiss upon the unusually  _chilled_ skin. He reopened his azure eyes, blinking slowly as he looked to Sam with an unreadable gaze - but something in those ancient depths spoke silently to the hunter… _something_ was telling him that _this_ was _goodbye_.

* * *

The air rushed in with a great gasp, blessed and cool as it filled his burning lungs. Sam blinked his eyes open, the muffled sound of the water, slowly coming into focus. His cheek was pressed into the tiled floor, his naked body lying heavy in the shallow water. He laid there, whether for seconds or for hours, he did not know, concentrating on nothing but the life-giving air, flowing in and out of his chest, keeping his heart beating. Slowly,  _carefully_ , he pushed himself up from the ground, his muscles shaking in protest, his head pounding in pain. 

Sam reached up, gripping at the metal bar along the shower wall, and pulling his body up, leaning heavily against the ceramic as he finally managed to stand on his own two feet. His breathing was labored, and his heart was pounding in his ears. The hunter pressed his back against the surface behind him, reaching down and blindly grasping for the shower handle, quickly turning off the running water. 

He brought his hands up, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, before jerking his head back, staring down at the smooth skin on  _ **both**_  palms. As he continued to gaze at the freshly healed hand, he felt the hot sting of tears. The hunter tilted his head back to rest against the wall, allowing himself to cry  _freely_. Sliding his eyes shut, Sam gave a small,  _weak nod_ , swallowing hard at the tightness in his throat, before speaking in a low whisper, his tone filled with a sad tremor of  _hope_. 

“Okay, Lucifer. I hear you… I  _understand_.” A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips, and Sam pressed his palm flat against his chest, just over his heart. He might never free himself of the guilt he felt;  _but_ , if there was  _one thing_ he  _would_ do, it would be to answer his archangel’s prayers, just as Lucifer had  _always_  done for him. 


End file.
